i heard you say softly,
you would soon get married,
in a passive way.
your mum has found a groom
she thought perfect,
the horoscopes match,
and your father, approves. that's that.
so nothing much left,
except sorting out "our mess"
caused by your" thoughtless
adventure," as you put it,
you now think it was "just physical"
you weren't sure yet
wheather it was love,
you felt, about me
though intense.
"that was a whim
and i wasn't in my senses
as i see it now,
when i listen to my dad and mom ;
a whim ruled my mind
i fell for you straight
your scent had something to do in that,
i could hardly think,
every time i almost swooned"
your part of the story
has a sharp razor gleam
the matador smiles,
just before the sword gets the bull,
i can almost hear the cheer of spectators,
it's the Roman crowd that still calls the shot
you and me are pawns, as time here stand still.
that's convenient, isn't it?
you are still, and would allways
have a disarming charm,
i'd never forget that, my lovely war wound!
it would remain with me ever.
we need to learn
to take body and mind
in seperate packages,
in this quagmiry times.
i understand,
you are at it, you'll be good.
you have this black mole
on your cheek,
as you speak i was
looking at it, as if it has a different life,
it now seems a symbol of something,
i try to place , but head was muddled,
i smell a betrayal, the mole soon would go,
suddenly, i felt a whim:
to kiss the blakest bit, still your part.
)O(